And then Madame Wachner once again broke into her h-less English.
"They went together in a boat on Lake Bourget--it is a real lake, that
lake, not like the little fishpond 'ere. A storm came on, and the boat
upset. Fritz did his best to save the unfortunate one, but 'e could not
swim. You can imagine my sensations? I was in a summer-'ouse, trembling
with fright. Thunder, lightning, rain, storm, all round! Suddenly I see
Fritz, pale as death, wet through, totter up the path from the lake.
'Where is Sasha?' I shriek out to 'im. And 'e shake 'is 'ead
despairingly--Sasha was in the lake!"
The speaker stared before her with a look of vivid terror on her face. It
was almost as if she saw the scene she was describing--nay, as if she saw
the pale, dead face of the drowned man. It gave her companion a cold
feeling of fear.
"And was it long before they found him?" asked Sylvia in a low tone.
"They never did find 'im," said Madame Wachner, her voice sinking to a
whisper. "That was the extraordinary thing--Sasha's body was never found!
Many people thought the money 'e 'ad on 'is person weighed 'im down, kept
'im entangled in the weeds at the bottom of the lake.
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